


Flushpoint

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Background Relationships, Deal with a Devil, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Third Person, Relationships Are Tertiary, South Park References, Swearing, Time Travel, background Creek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After his mother's memorial, 14-year-old Clyde Donovan is given a chance to go back in time to prevent her death. Though when he wakes up in an alternate reality, he is petrified with the results.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. The Temptation Of Clyde Donovan

The arrival of spring in South Park meant either one of those two things to most people: much nicer weather, or the soon to come Easter holidays. But for the fifth consecutive year, 14-year-old Clyde Donovan had started off March with the exact same reminder of his worst mistake. His mother's memorial. 

Clyde was never particularly close with his mother like most of his classmates were with theirs, but her unexpected death had hit him harder than he ever thought it would. After all, Betsy Donovan was much more of a mother to him than Roger Donovan was a father. Clyde just did not get along with his dad, but had always hoped, deep inside of him, that one day their relationship would improve. All hope of such a thing was lost though, when his mother died in their bathroom. 

Clyde's life at school was good. No, that would be an understatement. Clyde's life at school was great, and he was glad about that. He had friends he would never exchange for anything and a sweet, caring girlfriend. He was quite popular, mostly due to being part of the school's football team and hadn't really made any enemies in his teenage years. But that was the only good part.

Clyde's relationship with his one remaining parent was getting worse by each passing week. His father blamed him, and only him for Betsy's death, and Clyde never blamed his father for thinking that, because he blamed himself. No matter how much his supportive friends would try and convince him that anyone could have done the same mistake he had, and that no one in particular was to blame, he knew that if he had been just a tiny bit more responsible, his mother would be standing next to him, rather than his friends trying to comfort him at her memorial. 

Clyde had changed quite some in the past four years. After being given the title "The Second Fattest Kid In The Grade" after of course, Eric Cartman, he had promised himself to work out on a daily basis to clear that name. And his hard work had more than paid off, as the days of him being called "chubby" were long gone. Standing at 5'11, he was the second tallest kid in the grade, after his friend Token who had grown scarily tall as puberty hit him, and he'd like to believe he was the most muscular, though he wasn't certain. Just like everyone of his classmates, he wore the exact same clothes he did since elementary, only in a bigger size. 

Clyde was happy his friends had come to his mother's memorial. Even though he strongly claimed he didn't need them, he very well knew that he could use a little bit of support, as his own father had refused to even look him in the eye that day. After all, Clyde was still at heart the sensitive boy he had always been, even if he had better learned to hide that trait of his. 

He breathed, glaring at the ground as both his girlfriend and best friend placed an arm over each of his shoulders. Craig, Tweek, Bebe, Token and Jimmy all showed up to be there for him. Even after five entire years, he still couldn't go through the entirety of that day without someone by his side, and that made him feel somewhat embarrassed, even if his friends were more than happy to support him. He knew that he could never really get over the death of his mother, as therapists had told him, but Clyde felt that it wasn't even getting remotely better. It had to get better as time passed, but that just didn't happen for him. And if after five years, his mother's death still felt like the previous day, Clyde wondered if it would ever, at any point in his life, stop bothering him that much. 

Bebe pressed herself against him as she leaned on his shoulder. Jimmy had started telling everyone his jokes, attempting to get them to laugh, which they all only did out of kindness and realization of his good-hearted intentions. Clyde's handicapped friend had changed the less out of all of them during the past several years, the most notable change in his appearance being his much longer hair, which he insisted made him look like an 80s Rockstar, fitting as he had a passion for playing the drums, though Clyde just thought it made him look like a hippie, despite never telling him. Jimmy had yet to remove his braces and obviously still had crutches, though he had replaced them multiple times throughout the years. He still wanted to pursue careers in both comedy and news reporting, just as he did five years prior when he moved into their town. 

Craig had also grown a lot taller during the past few years, but not as much as Clyde, though he wasn't far behind. Character-wise, he hadn't changed in the slightest, being the same cynical, stoic person he had been since pre-school. He still never gave a fuck about a single thing, but that was what made him Craig Tucker. Craig's boyfriend Tweek was also a replica of his younger self, still unable to shake off his title as "The Spazz Kid", as his anxiety disorder never left his side. He was the second shortest boy in class, with Butters being the first. His shirt up to that day, still remained unbuttoned at almost all times, and his large mane of golden yellow hair had grown even longer. 

Token Black, still one of the only two African-American minors in South Park, had grown terrifyingly tall over the course of the past few years, standing at 6'1, holding the well earned title of being the tallest kid in the grade. He kept his hair incredibly short, as he always did, and was one of the few, if not the only kid who had a tendency to constantly experiment with different clothes, taking advantage of his financial state. 

"So..." Jimmy prepared them for another joke he had planned for the day. "It looks like that today, the economy is so bad, that a single picture is only worth two hundred words!" 

Clyde smiled. That one wasn't that bad. Besides, every time Jimmy told a joke he would put on a wide open smile, that was always ten times more hilarious than the joke itself. He could tell his friend most likely wouldn't have a successful future in comedy, but he would support it nonetheless. 

"Well, at least it wasn't a racist joke!" Token tapped Jimmy on his back. "That's a certain improvement!" 

"About that..." a cunning smile was formed on Jimmy's face. "I have prepared q-quite a few!" His stuttering had been much reduced, to everyone's surprise, though it was still present. Following that, Jimmy began telling a bunch of racist jokes plainly to annoy Token, which Clyde had to admit, were genuinely much funnier. Even Craig was laughing, though most probably to frustrate Token as well. 

Clyde was casually smiling at his friends being themselves when a strange feeling hit him. Like a sudden burst of an unknown substance occurring in his brain. He unwillingly leaned slightly forward to hold his head, catching Craig's and Bebe's attentions in the process. 

"What's wrong sweetie?" Bebe spoke in a worrying tone, as she and Craig helped Clyde stand properly. Craig was starting to look worried as well, and that meant quite a lot, as he was the person who rarely cared about anything around him. Clyde again felt embarrassed as he assumed that both of them thought it was something related to his mother's memorial. Even though the physical pain it caused him had only lasted a couple of seconds, he still felt that something almost like a sphere was repeatedly traveling in circles inside his head, as if it was instructed to do so, almost trying to tell him something. 

"Nothing!" he informed his friends, trying to clear any thought in their minds that he was feeling unwell because of a memorial related reason. That was partially a lie. Yes, his mother's memorial didn't give him flashbacks or anything, but something was definitely wrong. He gave his girlfriend a kiss on the forehead to assure her everything was just fine. It wasn't. 

Craig and Bebe seemed somewhat convinced, but Clyde could tell they were keeping an eye on him, though it was out of genuine care. As Jimmy and Token were arguing in the background with Tweek adding something to the conversation every now and then, Clyde attempted to focus more on the strange occurrence inside of his head. He soon figured he had no control over it and could just wait, as the bizarre matter started rapidly increasing in speed. Though he found it rather difficult, he tried his best to cancel every single one of his senses, focusing only on that one thing. As he closed his eyes, silenced his mouth and held his breath, he felt the sphere push harder as he noticed it weighing more towards the right side of his head. Turning to his right, as slowly as possible to not attract any attention, his felt it weighing much more towards the front side of his head, nearly pushing his forehead, as if it was now trying to escape. One thing became obvious. 

"I'll be back in a second!" he told his friends and ventured off without exchanging a single glance. 

"Clyde, wait!" Craig's voice could be heard behind him, but he ignored his friend's call completely as he let his strange newly formed instinct guide the way. 

His feet, obeying his brain's orders, quickly dragged him off to the nearby woods, passing through the small crowd at the memorial, his father not even noticing him. Whether Craig or not had tried to follow him he didn't know, but his undying curiosity was concurring his head, not leaving any more room for other worries or emotions to co-exist. 

After letting his instinct lead the way some more, at that point uncertain if he was doing that willingly or not, he came to the realization that he had completely lost his way and the instinct itself, only to find himself in an accurate depiction of "the middle of nowhere". Not panicking just yet, convincing himself that he couldn't have gotten much far away, he looked around for a way out, when a high pitch, non human-like voice made him freeze. 

"Oh hi there Clydy!" a voice friendly to a creepy point caused him to turn around. As he did, he was left paralysed. The being that had spoken to him was a bear. Normally on such an instance, Clyde's childish easy-to-scare character would have kicked in, making him run as far away as possible from the source of his fear, not considering the direction he went. But this time he found himself anxious to the point where he couldn't even lift his feet from the muddy soil, as if the creature he was talking to had forced a magical grip around him. A grip to do, what? What did that,... thing.. want with him? 

"Oh.. he-hey there!" Clyde nervously laughed as a drop of sweat began traveling from his forehead to his chin. He went on to lift his hand so he could use his sleeve to dry of the area, but found himself unable to move almost any limb of his. The furry creature nonchalantly took a step forward, and at that exact moment, a rabbit and dear that looked much like the bear in a lot of ways, stepped outside from a set of bushes. Clyde wasn't sure if his brain was playing tricks on him. 

"We heard that you really miss your mom!" the deer spoke in a jolly tone, as if it had every reason to be happy. "I'm Deery the dear, by the way!" 

"I guess I do!" Clyde's scared look was replaced by a frown as he admitted to that. 

"Well, what if we told you..." the equally creepy rabbit started building unnecessary suspence. "... that you could have her back!" 

Clyde would have none of that. 

"Bullshit!" he angrily muttered through his teeth as frustration won over. Bereft of any fear for what the creatures would attempt to do, he abruptly turned his back to them and tried to follow his footsteps back where he came from. This was nothing but a bunch of crap. Five years had passed, and he couldn't even shake off his hallucinations. He truly felt like a pathetic idiot as he went to reach for his phone, needing to call someone as he was lost in the woods. 

"But Clydy!" the bear protested with a fake tear in its eye. Clyde refused to pay attention, as he fought to keep his hallucination from affecting him any further, and possibly even convincing him to do something he would later regret. "All you have to do is touch this stone!" 

Clyde's curiosity once again got the better of him, as against his better judgment, turned around to face the creatures. In front of the three animals, a glowing crimson rock in the shape of a hexagon floated in the air, perfectly still. Flickering lights could be seen through the solid, translucent material. Suddenly, Clyde felt the urge to move to it. Cautiously, with slow and careful steps he made his way to the object, his eyes glued on it as the Critters happily watched. 

Then before he realized it, the rabbit had already climbed on top of his shoulder. He felt that. He could feel the animal's very little but existent weight on him, confirming one terrifying thought. What he was seeing was real. And if something such as that could have been real, then why wouldn't saving his mother be possible? 

"How?" he demanded of the three animals. "What happens if I touch it?" 

"You're gonna have another chance to save your mommy!" Deery cheered, as it moved to him and curled up in his right foot. Clyde's emotions were at war. 

"How do I know you're not lying?" he tested them, trying to judge what he should do by their reactions. "How do I know this... stone thing here isn't gonna kill me?" 

The three critters laughed at his question, as they kept their psychotic merry expressions. 

"Oh Clydy!" the bear laughed once more, this time more gently. "We can't lie, our lord and savior doesn't permit it!" 

Clyde's head was beginning to hurt, as he tried to be rational all while considerate of what he was offer. He had to control his irresistible temptations, but that was much easier said than done, especially considering that the gateway to his biggest wish was standing, or rather floating, right in front of him. And the three spine chilling creepy figures giggling around Clyde had given him no reason to trust them. They were only trying to take advantage of someone who would be desperate enough to accept such an offer, and well, that was him. 

Being reasonable and mature enough, he didn't rush to an immediate decision, but rather took his time, staring down at the shiny item. He almost felt like the object was staring back at him, as if it carried the abyss inside it, patiently waiting for the move he would make. He knew that the likelihood of something bad happening once he had touched the stone was much, much high. 

But then the stone started moving slowly, to nowhere specifically, circling around him. Its speed got increasingly faster as Clyde began having trouble keeping up with it, and the Critters watched with a sinister grin. Suddenly, it abruptly stopped, regaining its perfectly still position for a few seconds. Then, just when he thought it was done, the object began expanding, morphing into something spherical, adjusting its color to a light beige. Eventually, brown hair started growing from the top, falling to what appeared to be the back-right of a newly formed head. The shape was now clearly the one of a human figure, a female one to be exact. Betsy Donovan. His mother. 

Paralysed, his feet glued to the ground, Clyde failed to hold back the two streams of tears, as his eyes boiled. Though transparent and ghostly, though not real, though not her, he truly felt like he was seeing his mother, once again. She was just like he remembered. She just stood there and humbly smiled at him, offering the palm of her hand. That was too much for him to take. That was his mother. 

Clyde broke down. He fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably into the sleeves of his coat. The lifeless yet so lively figure resembling his mother didn't say a word, but expanded her smile and extended her hand to him. No one could doubt, not one could mistaken the person standing right in front of his very own eyes. That was his mother. 

Clyde knew he would regret it. He knew he was about to do something that would cost him. He was about to do something he damn well knew would be childish and irrational. But not a single thing around him was rational. Not a single thing in his life was rational. Not his mother's death, not his relationship with his father, not a single molecule that was surrounding him at the moment. He reached up and took his mother's hand. 

Everything around him froze. From the faint rustling the leaves made and the twigs shaking, to the animals hopping around him, seeming extremely satisfied with the boy's decision. Then it all went into a blur, one that got harder to see through with each passing second. Before he could comprehend all of it, he was no longer standing on earth's soil. Everything around him was frighteningly dark, though he could still perfectly make out his own body. After half a minute in that state, a blinding light flashed right in front of him, attacking his sight. Regaining his vision, he realized he was back in the world. Though not exactly his. 

He stood right in front of a house. He could easily recognize the house. It was his, he was in South Park. Though something was most definitely off. Glaring around, he could say that for the whole place. Yes, that was indeed South Park. South Park in 1995. That was ten whole years before he was born. Nineteen years before the incident. Why was he sent that far back? 

He jumped right behind a bush, as the door to that house unlocked. Peaking only slightly, afraid they would notice him, he observed the couple that had just exited the house. Both of them were in their mid-twenties. The woman looked young and prettier than he had ever seen her be. The man had an arm over her, and both were smiling at each other. 

Clyde shed another tear, against his will. 

Unable to look at them for any longer, he ducked behind the set of leaves and waited for them to leave the area. He made sure they weren't anyone near when he rushed to the half closed door. The atmosphere, of not just the house but of everything he had seen, only showing him what he needed to see to do what he had to, did make the place feel like one big cemetery. Though he didn't go there to talk to a corpse. He would bring it back. 

The inside of the house, though similar enough to its current state to be recognizable, was still plenty different than what he grew up with. The furniture was older, fitting the typical descriptions of sofas, armchairs and coffee tables from the 90s. A wired television sat on a taller table, one big box. Pictures were still present, though much fewer in number, featuring only his parents and some of their relatives, as he wasn't born yet. Not letting himself get too distracted by the parallels he could spot between the past he was in and the present he lived in, he made his way upstairs, though still observing as much as he could around him. 

He had been sent nearly twenty years before the death of his mother, thus pulling down the toilet seat wouldn't do much. He didn't let himself panick, though the thought of getting trapped in the past with no way out did obviously bother him.

Coming to realize he was also unaware of how much time he potentially had left, he dashed to the only bathroom in the house, the very place where his mother had flushed herself in the toilet, drowning in the process. All because he had forgotten to place the toilet seat down after he was done. That was alright though. He could fix things. Right there, that moment. He thought as hard as he could, while simultaneously checking every last shelf, for a way to prevent his mother's death, from a point in time that far back. Nothing was there, at least nothing that could help him in any way. 

A loud opening of the front door made his already anxious heart skip a couple beats. He heard two familiar voices from downstairs, and he could tell that they were alarmed, even if they were much blurred from where he was. They knew someone had broken into their house. That meant he didn't have much time. Tossing every single item that would render useless to him aside, he eventually reached one time that could po do something. Adhesive Glue. 

He was totally aware of the pure ridicule of his plan, but if there was a chance in hell anything would alter his mother's future, letting him live in a world where she was alive, he was more than willing to take it. Using all the remaining fluid inside of the tube, he spread it as evenly as he could on the toilet, and then carefully positioned the seat back in its place, applying pressure on it afterwards. 

The footsteps grew louder as one of the two was now in the upper floor, presumably his father, judging by the sound that person's footwear made. It didn't bother him much. His work was now done, or at least, he tried. He tried to make things right, and that mattered, didn't it? He let himself relax as the bathroom door burst open. He was unable though, to lay eyes on the person who opened it, as a flashing light spawning from seemingly nowhere hit him once again, making him lose his consciousness, his eyes being forced to shut. 

Everything went completely dark again. 

His eyes slowly opened themselves, as he woke up under a warm blanket, his heavy, tired head resting on a pillow. The room was rather dark as well, but he could make out its size and more or less its contents. He had woken up in a bedroom. It wasn't his. 

"Just a change in my bedroom is more than worth it if my mom gets to live!" Clyde thought to himself. Before he could move an inch more, his bedroom door slowly, gently opened to disclose the person on the other side. His mother. 

"Wake up and get ready, Clyde honey!" the woman said casually, and went on to leave. But Clyde, ignoring his tiredness and exhaustion, launched himself out of the comfort of his bed, rushing to his mother and pulling her to a tight hug. 

"Well that's certainly nice!" his mom smiled and kissed his hair. "I don't quite get that every day!" 

Clyde let go after holding her in his arms a bit longer. 

"Alright, I'll get ready for school... mom!" he assured her. 

"Oh, don't be such a comedian Clyde!" his mother was quick to respond. "You kind of remind me of your friend Jimmy." 

"Yeah" 

"God rest his soul..." 


	2. South City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde wakes up in a different future. His mother is very well alive, though more has changed than he could possibly comprehend. Plenty of costs, most of which he was definitely not willing to pay.

Clyde was paralyzed.

"God rest his soul". No, that didn't mean he was dead. Maybe.. yes, Jimmy was dead. What else could that phrase mean? What had he done? How much damage did he cause? No one told him about that. No one told him he would have to trade lives. He slowly softened his tight hug on his mother, and turned to face the other direction, hiding his watering eyes. The door let out a creak as Clyde shut it behind him, and opening the light, he was standing in his room. His room, but it wasn't really his. 

Ready to collapse, in more than one ways, he fell on his knees and shoved his head right on his pillow. What had he done? He had killed his friend, that's what he had done. He was a murderer. And now because of him, and only him, Jimmy Valmer was dead. That meant no more. No more Jimmy, no more of the happy cherish figure they all loved at school. School... 

Him being a comedian? When he said something about school. Wait. To what fucking extent had he altered everything? Clyde felt the urge to unleash an agonizing holler. He buried his head even deeper inside of his pillow, and with grief, guilt and regret striking him all together, he screamed out of his utmost anguish. 

Violently lifting himself off his bed, he rushed to his window and anxiously opened the closed shutters, disclosing what was waiting for him on the other side. The blinding light attacked his sight, and after regaining it, he wished he never did. 

Clyde was robbed of his breath, his heart stopped beating and his eyes were to launch themselves off their sockets. He nearly fainted as he gawked at his own creation, the result of his very own actions. His fault. Beyond his window, right in front of him laid a land, a place he couldn't even begin to comprehend. A city. 

His eyes were shaking, on the verge of bursting out, from all the information, all the pictures they were receiving. The complexity of the environment he was glaring at forced him to look away, only so he could stare back seconds later. His heart was violently pumping, punching his chest almost as if it was trying to punish him. 

He looked down and immediately regret it. He wasn't a floor above the ground in his bedroom. He was at least a hundred. And so was everything around him, if not taller. Buildings, if you could even call them that, were almost all in obscure shapes. The roads, sitting an immeasurable height below constantly changed in color, as dots of beings and machines traveled through them.

His neck, working without his permission, turned his head skyward, only so he could look at more absurdity. Floating proudly higher than any other, an enormous eye-catching shiny golden sign showed itself to everyone who dared lay a foot in a fifty mile radius. South City. 

What had he done? 

How was this possible? All he did was glue a goddamn toilet seat down. This wasn't supposed to happen. How could it happen? How could such a small action, the tiniest change possible, completely obliterate countless futures? 

He buried his head in his knees, choking out an awful sob, asking himself how he could possibly adapt and settle in this monstrosity of a reality. What if he hadn't even seen the worst of it yet? What had happened to the rest of his friends? What had happened to Craig, Token, Tweek? What had happened to Bebe? 

Just the thought of that made his stomach sink and flip inside of him. He used his right sleeve to wipe away the last of his tears, as he dragged himself to a standing position, his fingers tightly curled up to a fist. A fist to do what, exactly? There was no one else to hold responsible, no one to blame for all this, no one to hate. There wasn't a person he could lash out on, take revenge on. No vengeance could be achieve. 

Those feelings were awfully familiar. 

It was just like his mother's death all over again. 

A sudden knock on the door snapped him back to reality, dragging him from his torturing realm of thoughts. 

"Clyde!!" his father's voice pierced through the wooden bedroom door and oddly enough, it didn't sound the least bit menacing or violently demanding, like he had gotten used to it being. It was calm and relaxed, the voice of someone who didn't despise his son's very being. "C'mon! Don't be late son! We need to get to the mines quickly! You know the Monarch is coming today!" 

"Okay. Coming." Clyde's damaged voice sput those words out, hoping that they made sense. His father's footsteps could be heard leaving, fortunately not suspecting anything. With difficulty, he put on his scarlett coat and buttoned it as he caught sight of a strange device laying on his desk. He moved closely to observe it, and quickly realized that it was a phone of sorts, though much different from what he was used to. 

He sighed as he slipped the bizarre object in his pocket, but soon realized that something was already in trousers. Confused at first, he pulled a rectangular item out, and turned his head to gaze at his old cellphone. Somehow, it had traveled with him through his time journey, but there was nothing he could really use it for, other than revisit precious memories from the past he had demolished. He shoved both devices into his pocket, released a heavy breath and made his feet drag him outside of the room. 

Of course, he was currently a hundred floors up high in the air, and the absence of a staircase was one of the first things he noticed as he took his first step in the hallway. That, and his parents were standing right in front of his very eyes, forcing a smile as they clung on to each other. Clyde attempted to smile, but the concern on both of their faces was much obvious, and he wasn't oblivious to it. 

"Is everything alright Clyde, honey?" his mother asked with a slightly shaking voice. 

"Yeah.." Clyde nearly stuttered. "Why wouldn't it be?" The last four words had escaped his lips without permission. There was no way he could wrap his head around his creation, and he slowly felt his heart and feeling starting to tap into his mind. Delusion. 

"Listen.." his father breathed through his mouth. "We know this day is going to be tough, just be careful. You know the Monarch isn't the kindest of people, just act nicely and do what he says within reason if he demands it." 

From the calm worrying tone he used, downright to the anxiety that was slightly displayed in his father's voice, he could very well tell that this "Monarch", was a person of certain significance and importance. Whether he was an actual monarch, and Clyde had actually fucked up reality so bad that he destroyed democracy, he couldn't know. But at least he had a supposed reason to not feel well, and his parents wouldn't get too suspicious of his behavior. 

That was apparently the definition of a good thing at the moment. 

He nodded at both of his parents, and as his mother hugged him goodbye, his dad and him left through the apartment door and took one of the many elevators available right to the ground floor. Clyde was silent the entirety of the time, but didn't devote any energy into caring about it, as it was apparently perfectly justifiable. 

The streets were extremely busy, making it quite obvious that South City was quite the megalopolis, one with a very large population indeed. As buildings towered over them, vehicles flew in the distant air and swarms of men, women and children made up the crowd around them, Clyde followed his father to a bus, keeping his head down. He couldn't bare to look at his surroundings. 

Each passing second was more time for the realization to sink in, and the pain to strike harder. And yet, as he had altered the very world he had grown up in, the very world where he had build something for himself, he still had an odd feeling that he hadn't been witness to the worst of it. 

He had fucked up his life. 

But it wasn't just his. His dumb selfishness, his stupid ego had probably screwed up the potential futures of so many people, billions that he had never even heard of. How many people, because of him, were absolutely heartbroken, living in misery? People who were just fine, satisfied with their lives in his world.

Unlike him. 

Clyde's life wasn't perfect; far from it. But there was so much going on for him that he would never, ever trade, and yet in one idiotic, irrational, egotistical act, he had given it all away. He should have been satisfied with his life, he shouldn't have demanded for more, he shouldn't have persuaded a flawless reality. 

But he did. 

Falling right in the dead center of an obvious trap, a plot set up to catch him and only him, he let all the friendships he had build, all the people who had showed nothing but care and love for him go. 

Was there even a way to reverse this? He had gotten himself into something far beyond his comprehension. The stone, the animals, the ghost; none of it existed in the realm of things he could begin to understand. He had made a deal with the devil.

He knew this wasn't a dream, nor was his mind playing some dumb tricks on him. He simply did not have the brains to make something like this. None of it, not a moment, not a second had been anything of a blur or a fog. None of it felt like a vague, distant memory he had created for himself. Everything he had felt was real, real as an emotion could be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I'm in the middle of a shitpile of real life work here, and I managed to find enough times to write just a bit today. I have plans for this story and no intentions of abandoning it. Hopefully it won't take me as long to update next time.  
> Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed. Feedback in the comments would be highly appreciated. :)  
> Btw, sorry for occasional grammatical errors, English isn't my first language.


	3. The Mines of Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde arrives at the mines of South City.

"Here we are!" Roger Donovan's voice hit Clyde's ear, as the bus they were on steadily slowed down, making a stop. His father was making a rather futile attempt to sound enthusiastic, as the nervousness in his voice failed to go unnoticed. His dad and him, along with plenty others it seemed, had found work at the famous South City Mines, and today was the day that The Monarch, the infamous mysterious figure Clyde had heard people mention so much, would pay the place a visit. From what Clyde could tell, The Monarch was indeed a monarch, a harsh ruler with apparently more power than anyone else. Even the mention of his title appeared to strike fear into the common citizens of South City. Although Clyde was admittedly terrified of what he would possibly uncover from this appalling world, curiosity was still existent inside of him. 

Clyde raised his sight upon exiting the vehicle and glared at a metallic sign that was hung right opposite to him. _SCM - SOUTH CITY MINES._ A scarily tall door present a couple dozen feet away granted passage to the crowds of men and women that were constantly swarming in and out. His father took the lead with Clyde following closely, as the man seemingly knew the route they were supposed to take more than well enough. The building they entered was no more than two stories tall, but a staircase leading downwards guided the way to the much larger underground area that awaited its workers.

It truly felt weird, as in less than an hour of living in this new reality, he had come across countless more faces than he had ever seen in his hometown throughout his entire life. Clyde had gotten so used to knowing every single place, every person that was taking a stroll on the sidewalk. Having grown up in a mountain town with a population of no more than seven hundred people, it was irritatingly difficult to adjust to a city that was home to possibly millions.

His father quickly led him to a set of changing rooms, where he was given an outfit, identical to the one of every worker. A rusty orange shirt and pants, with a simple, plain logo printed onto the front left of the upper half. Along with it, he was lent a dirty crimson red helmet, with a head-torch strapped on it. Having no choice but to play along for the moment, he got dressed as he was supposed to and exited the rooms with his father. Not being much talkative either, Roger joined Clyde in an elevator. Other men were present, but Clyde wasn't paying much attention.

"How you holding up, Roger?" a silhouette just a few feet away greeted his father. His tone was quite friendly, and arguably showed concern. His voice sounded oddly familiar, odd, as it was one of a middle aged man.

"I'm alright Richard, you and your family okay?"

"We're good.. good enough..." 

The possibility of this world and his one sharing faces in his life aside from family members was pretty damn thin, but his mother had already made it obvious that a friendship between him and Jimmy Valmer was indeed existent at one point. The name Richard could only link to one person in South Park, as far he could remember, a person that was coincidentally close to his father. He had nothing more to lose at that point, so without hesitation he turned to the person his dad was talking to.

A small gasp escaped Clyde's mouth. Richard Tweak.

Clyde attempted to keep composure as he subtly narrowed his gaze on the familiar figure. A nervous expression conquered the man's face, his eyes constantly averting from place to place as his slim fingers were absentmindlesdly drumming on the tip of a rusty pickaxe. The man was never one to usually display anxiety; Clyde could perfectly recall his friend's father's total lack of care toward Tweek's issues. Richard was a person who rarely, if ever, showed emotion. Yet here he was, mildly sweating and tensely tapping his boot on the floor in anticipation. 

A robotic beep screamed through the elevator, and the futuristic machine began lowering altitude. Richard Tweak. Tweek Tweak's father. If Richard was not only present in this timeline, but standing right in front of Clyde, then where would that put Tweek? Clyde breathed heavily into his palms in a worthless attempt to silence his wandering mind, as he scrutinized his friend's father. His working attire was much identical to the one of Roger's, but in Richard's case, a tight nondescript brown belt was strapped around his waist, a silver thermos holstered on the left side of it. As Clyde focused on the object as to construct a much clearer image, he was able to distinguish a printed logo: 'Tweak Bros Factory.'

From the looks of it, this world he'd created shared odd similarities with his. Things that couldn't have occurred, not at random. Perhaps someone was behind this. The creatures. They were... 

No. Impossible. 

They were the ones from Eric Cartman's Christmas story back in fourth grade. Eric Cartman. But how, how could he be involved in such a thing? Yes, he was indeed a blatantly egocentric individual who was barely reluctant to take life in some cases. But he did not possess power, at least not to this extent. He was unstable, manipulative, and no matter how much they'd all deny it, he was smart. But how did he fit into this, if he did? 

The elevator doors opened abruptly, snapping Clyde out of his thoughts. 

They had to be at least a dozen floors below the ground, if not more. They were greeted by a dimly lit dug up hallway, as no natural light was able to filter in. The floor, walls and ceiling consisted of beige stone. In some places it was as strong as steel, in others it appeared to be dissolving in alarming speeds. The sounds of coughing and myriad pickaxes bouncing off against the rocks echoed through the hallway as similarly dressed groups of men jogged in and out. 

Clyde followed his father and the rest of the miners outside of the barren section and soon enough came face to face with the place where he supposedly worked. A gargantuan, lofty area with a stone ceiling was littered with dilapidated ruins, where countless men stood on top, some striking walls with their tools, others laying on the ground sweating and exhausted. 

Several streams of water hissed, as to battle the ricocheting sounds of steel upon impact with rock. A shaking, rusty metal staircase let Clyde and his father descend what could perhaps be described as a few floors. Before they had to part ways, Roger placed a hand on his son's shoulder and said: "We don't exactly know when he's coming, but be on alert! You hear me?" 

Clyde did not feel like speaking, so instead he just nodded. Roger attempted a smile. 

"I'd just... I'd," his father started. "I'd watch that friend of yours a bit, you know he's um... not exactly the best at keeping his calm..." 

"Kay." Clyde's mouth had decided to answer. His ears registered the words a second later. 

It took him a whole minute to extract meaning from what he had just heard. 

Shit. 

Tweek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter uhhhhhh. I promise I'll try to make them bigger. Got some stuff going on, and shorter chapters are much easier. In the mean time, I'd really appreciate some feedback.


	4. The Spazz and The Cynic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This can't get any worse...

Short. Yellow mane. Twitching. 

Yeah, look for that.

Clyde fastened his step the moment the moment he was able to cull clarity from his father's words. No, impossible. Yet who else?Richard was there. That was a start. It would only make sense that his son was present.

Clyde continuously whirled around, his eyes scrutinizing every last molecule as he trudged through the crowd, searching for the twitching blonde. He mostly kept his eyes on heads, scanning for the familiar golden thatch. Plenty of men donned mining helmets, but it wouldn't have been like Tweek to do so. Then again, much was different. 

With his sight ignoring the ground, the thick wire prominent in the form of an outstretching line did not enter Clyde's field of view, and as he rushed to the other side, he inevitably tripped over it into the rocky terrain, scraping his knees open upon impact. 

He groaned heavily as he attempted to lift himself up, only to find himself unable to bend his legs without agonizing pain. He tried to roll over to the side, in hopes of evading the squashing stampede of workers. 

"Oh crap-Clyde!" 

Clyde jerked his head up so fast he nearly cracked his nape open. 

There he was. His expression nervous and uncomfortable, his emerald eyes trembling inside their sockets, his whole figure twitching under an unbuttoned grubby miner uniform. Tweek Tweak, just as he knew him, just as he remembered. He was there, he was Tweek but, not exactly. Still, the identical forgery of his friend provided an iota of sanity for Clyde, a tidbit of normality to ground the sheer madness that conquered that world. The boy looked scared, restless and agitated, just like he normally would. This was perhaps a sign that not all hope was utterly lost. 

Tweek offered a hand to help him back to his feet, but Clyde dismissed the gesture, instead launching himself upwards and into his friend's arms. Which naturally, of course, simply scared the blonde even more. 

"Ahh, Clyde, what's wrong?" Tweek's high-pitched voice asked as Clyde as he pulled away from the tight embrace. "I heard rumors -ngh- please tell me they're not right, please!" 

"What rumors?" Clyde wondered mindlessly, still grinning somewhat while inspecting Tweek as if to confirm that every last bit was in place. "Shit dude, you're here!" 

"What do you mean of course I'm here!" Tweek replied. "Is something wrong? They said-" the blonde spun around and then lowered his voice as much as he could, "they said the Monarch is gonna come down here!" 

From what Clyde had understood, the Monarch's planned visit was common knowledge. It was easy to guess that Tweek's parents had stupidly hid the fact in order to prevent a wild reaction from him, but he was bound to find out, one way or another. 

"Yeah..." Clyde said, bracing himself for however his friend could possibly react. "Just stay calm. Do nothing. Say nothing unless you're told to and everything's gonna be just fine. Ya hear me man? Just fine."

Tweek's breathing fastened abruptly, but he made a firm effort to keep his feet to the ground, despite both of his eyes blinking uncontrollably. Clyde set a hand on his back and while utterly forgetting where and when he was, suggested, "C'mon, let's go find Craig!" 

Only for Tweek to cup both his palms in front of his mouth, kneel and scream.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey Tweek, Tweek! Tweek calm down!" Clyde anxiously attempted to get the blonde back on his feet without attracting any more attention. Whatever he had said, in that moment when unknowingly neglecting the reality he was in, that went to show something. Things were still just as fucked up as he had done them. Tweek was, well, fine in comparison to... Jimmy, but... 

"Why would you say that?" Tweek asked in a slightly quieter and calmer tone once he managed to get a hold of himself. Looking down at him, Clyde realized that Tweek's eyes had watered. _No... no... Shit! Not Craig! Not Craig!_ But then Tweek added: "There's no way he even remembers me! Or what if he does? The way he looks at me, man! I-I think he wants me dead!" 

"I don't think he wants you dead," Clyde muttered as he glared at his friend quizzically. Then, realizing that Tweek's earlier statement ushered in another important question. "Why wouldn't he remember you?" 

"We've only talked like three times!" Tweek uttered quickly enough that Clyde had to concentrate to catch his words. "Do you remember the people you've talked to three times?!?" 

"Depends on how memorable they are," Clyde absent-mindedly answered as he tried to solve the riddle Tweek's behavior had spawned. "So, Craig... is he here?" 

"I dun-I dunno, he should be!" Tweek blurted swiftly as he reluctantly begun following Clyde through the busy crowds. "Wait! If he isn't he-here and the Monarch-" Tweek unleashed a brief scream at the mention of the title, "if he's here, you know–here to visit, an-and Craig's not here, then Craig's gonna be in big trouble!" 

Clyde's halted his trudging and turned around to face the blonde. "Craig wears that Chullo?" 

"That blue hat thing with the bits around the ear and the yellow ball on the top?" Tweek asked and Clyde nodded affirmatively. "Y-yeah man, he doesn't even wear a helmet on top of it! Why are you asking me this?" 

"Just makin' sure." Clyde decided to reply with. 

Craig and Tweek were still alive. Of course, they didn't remember a damn thing, but they were both alive.

That was a start. It wasn't much, but Clyde was finally given something of sorts to work with. Because theoretically, if something as extreme as the construction of this very time-line could happen, it was equally possible that it could be reversed. He just had to find the source. And the source was Eric Cartman. 

Cartman was the creator of the varmints that had duped him into altering time itself. It was only five years ago that the fat lump had penned his crappy Christmas story about... 

About "The Boy with The Red Poof-ball Hat." Stan Marsh. 

It was immensely unlikely that Marsh, South Park High's finest quarterback and good friend to Clyde, had any role in this, at least under his own volition. Cartman though... 

But that was a matter to dig into later on. Unfortunately, Clyde was unable to find Craig, or any sign of him. He wasn't too eager to ask around given the circumstances, thus after a solid quarter of scanning the area he deduced, at least for the time being, that the boy in the yellow poof-ball hat was not present. He did though, happen to see a multitude of other, albeit minor, familiar faces that would pop up around the town, all working hard to earn their living under the Monarch's reign. 

Eventually, Clyde and Tweek reluctantly donned their miner helmets and begun the day's work. It was quite an arduous grind, but not exceptionally difficult. Clyde managed to grasp the basics of the job pretty quickly, as he observed the other workers. Under the obnoxious sound of pickaxes striking stones, he tried making small-talk with Tweek in hopes of unearthing more details regarding the world he was in. 

"So, how's your father's business?" Clyde asked the blonde, not being too specific allwhile utilizing the little knowledge he had made a mental note of. 

"Oh, you know..." Tweek muttered, "we're just kinda trying to stay relevant at this point. Harbucks is taking over, we know it."

"So, that's the case!" Clyde feigned interest in order to keep the conversation going. 

"I mean, we're lucky to even have something more than this," Tweek gestured to the entire working place, "to help us make money, man! I can't complain! Most people just have a pickaxe and a helmet!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Clyde commented to get Tweek to keep going. If there was any way to unravel anything major without arousing suspicion, this was it. 

"It's umm... uhh, well, I'm sorry Clyde!" Tweek trailed off, "I know it's hard to live with just miner money, you're just... doing the Monarch's work, man!" Tweek whispered after whirling around to convince himself that no one could hear them. 

"Well, what does the Monarch do?" Clyde strategically placed his question in a way that could be both rhetorical and curious.

Tweek let out a whimper. "Well, nothing really, you know, like... work. He doesn't work."

"Yeah, I know." Clyde replied. In hopes of receiving a more detailed answer he asked: "But what can we do about it?" 

"Nothing really," Tweek said joylessly. "It's that–shiiiiit!" 

Clyde immediately turned his head to find that Tweek had fallen in someone's wheelbarrow. 

The blonde immediately started screaming as he attempted to escape the trolley. Clyde rushed to his friend's aid and yanked him out of the object, as he turned to apologize to the person navigating it. But instead of apologizing, he ended up staring at his navy blue chullo. 

"Ahhh–Oh hi Craig!" Tweek's voice creaked as he blurted the words in unfathomable speeds. "Nggggh! I-I-I'm sor.. I'm-I'm–" 

"It's alright," Craig assured him calmly in that same monotone voice, shrugging off the subject. As the crowd stopped paying attention to the trio and resumed with their work, Craig cautiously set the wheelbarrow aside and moved to the two boys. "You're 'Tweek', right?" he asked the nervous boy, who nodded tensely. "Or that's your surname, sorry I don't remember exactly..."

"Both!" Tweek went on to explain, still shivering somewhat, though Craig handed him a confused look. "My name is Tweek Tweak!" the blonde elaborated. 

"Oh, okay." Craig registered. Turning to the only other presence in the conversation, he asked: "And you're?" 

Clyde stared at him in masked terror for a whole another second. "Clyde."

"Cool," he said and then turned back to a shaking Tweek. "Well I better get going now!" 

"You sure you don't need any help with that?" Tweek volunteered and Clyde finally snapped out from his glare in favor of a mild smile. "I-I'm the one who screwed this all up, so-" 

"Don't worry about it!" Craig sighed. "And hey, I think you got those buttons on your outfit all wrong."

"Ahh crap!" Tweek turned his head down, and after seeing the state of his uniform, swiftly attempted to fix it. 

"Hold on a second!" Craig offered and moved back to the blonde, carefully unbuttoning the wrongly placed studs. For Clyde, watching those two had always been a spectator sport of sorts, one where you always expected something to happen in, but usually ended with neither of the teams scoring any points. "There ya go!" Craig smiled and patted Tweek on the back, who winced at the gesture. "See ya guys later."

Craig only had to take ten steps for something to happen. 

"Attention all workers!" The speakers blasted from the ceiling. "The Monarch is here! You are instructed to kneel!" 

Everyone tensed, gasped, then did as ordered. Clyde held Tweek's hand in order to placate him. 

With everyone crouching still, the thuds of a particular set of feet moving were much more apparent. Kneeling, Clyde tried to make out the Monarch's figure, which was hidden behind several armed guards. After half a minute the strongest presence in the room finally spoke. 

"You guys, I'm so seriously!" Clyde's eyes shot wide open. "If I don't see better work by the end of the month, I'm soooo bringing back executions. I'm the MOTHERFUCKING Monarch, and you will respect my authoritah!" 

Clyde stood and gawked at where those words came from. A second later, his legs lost strength, making him fall back down. 

Eric fucking Cartman. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet it can...

**Author's Note:**

> What else has changed..?


End file.
